


Dancing With Myself

by silentdescant



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Gen, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:19:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen decides to smoke up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing With Myself

**Author's Note:**

> Day two of my week-long fic-a-day challenge! Inspired by the recent Supernatural convention in Vegas. I don't know why, but I wrote this as if Jensen wasn't married. I just go with the flow.

Jensen doesn't dance. He doesn't have the flexibility, the fluidity, no matter how much he plays at mimicking the silly thrust and sway movement of a crowd. He dances at weddings, because he has to, but even that is just a boxy turn around the floor before his partner lets him retreat to the bar. So no, Jensen doesn't dance, except... 

Except for this, when he's in a closed room slowly filling with sweet smoke. When there's music on the stereo -- it doesn't even matter what it is, because everything has a beat, and with the weed lowering his inhibitions and easing all the rigidity out of his body, he can move to it.

He sways a little, to get a feel for the slow, atmospheric sound playing through his iPod speakers. He rolls his head on his shoulders, letting the tension flow out of him, and finds himself reaching for the ceiling, fingers outstretched -- except for the two pinching the joint -- as if he could touch the music. It feels like warmth, tingling down from his fingertips to the rest of his body, finally overtaking him.

He doesn't really find getting high to be a sexual experience, though that may just be because he doesn't smoke up often enough, or with other people, people he could possibly have sex with, or even just people he's attracted to. Jensen doesn't smoke up with anybody, unless it's a special occasion. Like Jared's birthday party last year; that was a rare event. It was fun, though.

He thinks of it now and closes his eyes as he sucks the smoke into his lungs. Jared had spent the whole evening laughing at everything, even jokes that weren't funny. Jensen knows he wasn't being funny; any cleverness he has goes straight down the toilet when he's high. There had been no reason for Jared to laugh, except for the fact that he was wasted.

Jensen breathes out a laugh. Jared's not here now, though, can't join him in the unspoken joke. Now that the thought's in his head, Jensen can't stop thinking about Jared. His fingers are tapping the screen of his phone before he even realizes what he's doing -- inviting Jared up for a smoke via misspelled text message -- but he's interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Jensen, you ready?" Jared calls from the hallway. "Come on, man, we gotta go."

Jensen blinks stupidly at his reflection in the hotel mirror for a moment. "Oh," he finally says. "Oh, shit." Then, louder, "Yeah, hold on, I'm coming!"

When he opens the door, he sees Jared leaning against the wall with his phone in his hand, the very picture of boredom. He's standing tall in no time, though, and tells Jensen that Clif is waiting for them in the lobby. Then he gives Jensen a suspicious look.

"What were you doing?" he asks, in a voice that means he already knows the answer. Sure enough, he follows up with, "Were you getting high? Before a panel? Are you insane?"

Jensen shrugs. Jared looks more amused than shocked, so Jensen doesn't bother fighting him. He heads toward the elevator, feeling looser, more relaxed than he has in weeks. His head feels good on his shoulders; all his limbs feel both disconnected and lazy, but it's nice. He glances back over his shoulder; Jared's a few steps behind.

"Too late now, right?"

Jared laughs and punches him lightly on the shoulder. "Here goes nothin'."

 

 _fin_.


End file.
